


Birds Flying High

by Wynn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean pukes up a cheese glob and lends a cassette tape, F/M, First kiss schmoop, Newly uploaded to AO3, Older Fic, Sam gets into a fight with BillBobby, Two female OCs, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynn/pseuds/Wynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Birds flying high/ You know how I feel</em>
</p>
<p>First kisses for Dean and Sam.</p>
<p>Excerpt:<br/><em>She pulled out her notebook from class and flipped it open. Sam watched her reach for her Sprite, watched her crack open the can and take a small sip, and then she looked right at him. Sam jerked and shifted, looked away and knocked his fork to floor. He felt himself go red as he bent beneath the table to grab it, and he contemplated spending the rest of lunch hiding on the floor. He knew, though, that Dean was out there somewhere, or he would be out there somewhere whenever he got done making out with Stephanie, or Victoria, or maybe it was Jennifer now. Whatever. Whoever. All Sam knew was that he did not want to think about those consequences if Dean caught him hiding under the table because of a girl. Like, at all.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds Flying High

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song of the same name.

Dean hated school. You had to sit all day in the same chair, in the same room, with the same people who weren’t Dad or Sammy, and Dean hated it. 

He sat down low in his seat and scratched his name onto the desk with a paper clip. The teacher seemed like a nice enough lady and he didn’t _want_ to be rude, but she kept talking about apples and oranges and nouns and Dean figured it all made sense _somehow_. He just didn’t care how. If he needed to know it, then Dad would teach it to him, and then he would teach it to Sammy, and Dean didn’t think that he needed to know how apples and oranges and nouns all related to each other or any of the other stuff that the teacher talked about all day.

Dean pulled out his lunch, ham and cheese and some leftover green beans. He liked lunch the best. He could sit by himself for twenty whole minutes and didn’t have to pay attention to anyone or try to learn things that he didn’t need to know.

The two boys at the table next to him looked at his lunch and laughed. They had pizza and Coke from the lunchroom and some kind of chocolate thing, a brownie maybe, or a weird mashed cake square. Something that wasn’t green beans anyway. They saw Dean looking and laughed harder. Dean turned away to eat his lunch.

He _really_ hated school.

“Hi.”

Dean looked up, his mouth full of ham and cheese. A girl with curly brown pigtails stood next to him. She wore a blue dress that matched the barrettes in her hair, and she carried a red lunch bag in her hands. 

“Can I sit down?”

She pointed at the seat opposite him. Dean looked at the seat and then he looked back at her and nodded. He tried to swallow his sandwich so he could do something more than sit there and nod, but he started to choke instead. The girl smacked him hard on the back and a chunk of cheese popped out of his mouth and fell onto her shoes. 

Her white shoes.

Her _shiny_ white shoes.

Dean really, _really_ hated school.

The girl looked down at the cheese for a moment and then kicked it off to the floor. It slid to the ground with a slick wet plop. Dean stared at it, waiting for it to come back to life, a piece of mutant demon cheese waiting to take over the world or something like that. But the cheese stayed where it was, all limp and gross, and the girl sat down across from him as she stuck out her hand and said, “My name’s Carmen. What’s yours?” 

Her hands were clean and she wore a bracelet made of red and blue beads. Dean held out a hand too, and she squeezed it hard before giving it a good shake. Then she looked at Dean and Dean looked back at her and then he remembered that she asked him his name and he said, “Dean. I’m, uh, Dean.”

“Dean.” He liked the way she said it. Dheeean. 

Carmen opened her bag and pulled out a pudding cup. There was a sandwich in her bag too, but she left that in. “My grandma put mayonnaise on it,” she said. “I hate it. Mayonnaise that is, not my grandma. My sister’s the one who likes the stuff. I don’t know why. It’s all white and gross and cold, but she’s weird, so I guess it’s not gross to her, but it totally is.”

Dean blinked and waited for her to keep talking, but she didn’t. “Um, why is your sister weird?”

“Because she’d rather take ballet than tap and she hates Madonna.”

“Who?”

Carmen looked up at him so fast her pigtails wobbled. “What?”

Dean shifted in his seat again and wished now that the girl had gone somewhere else to sit. “I—”

“You don’t know who Madonna is?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Wow.” Carmen picked up her pudding cup. She started pulling on the top but she put it back down before opening it and said, “So what kind of music do you listen to then?”

Dean shrugged. “Just stuff my dad listens to.”

“Like what?”

Dean shrugged again. “I don’t know. Rock music.”

“Like—”

“Zeppelin.” She kept looking at him like she wanted him to talk more, so Dean scratched the back of his head and said, “AC/DC. Black Sabbath. The Ramones sometimes, but Dad doesn’t really like them too much.”

Carmen scrunched up her face and closed her eyes. She had a mole in the middle of her left cheek, right below her eye, and small gold hoops in her ears. She opened her eyes after a moment and said, “I’ve never heard of any of them.”

“Oh. Well—”

“Do you have a tape I could borrow?”

“I- what?”

“Can I borrow a tape? Or are they all records? My dad has a record player and I guess I could ask him if I could use it for a while, but tapes would probably be better. My mom gave me a Walkman for my birthday so I could listen to them on my own if they were tapes. Even at school if you don’t want me to take them home. But if you did, I’d be super careful with them. I have sixteen tapes at home and I haven’t lost any of them yet. My sister has though. She’s lost most of hers. But they all sucked anyway, so whatever.”

Carmen talked more than anyone else Dean knew. But it was nice, he guessed. And he didn’t know a whole lot of people, so maybe most people talked like this, just not Dad or Sammy. Not that Sammy could really talk yet. He mashed words together in weird ways, but Dean understood him most of the time, even when Dad didn’t. 

Carmen looked at him. Dean shifted in his seat and scratched the back of his neck. Then he said, “I- Okay. I guess. What do you want to listen to?”

Carmen shrugged. “Whatever. The first one. Zepnin.”

“Zeppelin. Led Zeppelin.”

“Them.”

Dean stared at her. She looked like she was serious, but Dean didn’t know. He didn’t talk to girls all that much. “Okay. Sure. I’ll bring in a tape of them tomorrow.”

She smiled. “Cool.” 

Dean liked her smile.

He brought her his tape of _Led Zeppelin I_ the next day. Carmen listened to it at lunch and then some more at recess with her Walkman that she brought from home. She listened with her eyes closed. She wore a green dress and black shoes and a big bow around her hair, and Dean liked the way that she sat next to him on the sidewalk at recess.

She kept the tape the rest of the day. The teacher talked about adding and taking away, but Dean watched Carmen stare out the window. Sometimes she would look over at him, and one time she turned red and ducked her head. Dean wondered if she would sit with him at lunch again tomorrow and if she liked the tape. Maybe she would let him listen to one of her Madonna tapes sometime. Or maybe she would want to listen to another one of his tapes. Maybe Pink Floyd. They were good.

The bell rang for the end of the day. Dean followed Carmen out of the classroom and out to the busses. He waited for her to say something, but she stayed quiet as she walked beside him. She probably hated the tape and didn’t want to tell him. Maybe she thought he wouldn’t be friends with her if she hated the tape, which was just stupid, so he opened his mouth and said, “Carmen—” and then she turned toward him real fast right then and kissed him. 

Her lips hit the side of his nose and then jumped down to the corner of his mouth. Her skin felt soft beside his, and she smelled like watermelon bubble gum, and Dean felt his eyelashes brush against her face as he blinked. 

She pulled back. Dean stared at her with wide eyes, and she turned red again and looked away. Dean felt- He didn’t know what he felt. He still felt her lips on his cheek, and all his breath left him in one big rush. Carmen reached into her backpack and pulled out the tape. She slipped it into his hand, and his fingers curved up over hers for a moment before she pulled away.

“So,” she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. She would see him tomorrow. Dean smiled and she turned red again, but she smiled too, and Dean knew he felt something, something nice, something he liked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

Maybe school wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
…………

She had long straight blonde hair and big brown eyes and her name was Melanie. She sat next to Sam in algebra, luck of the anal retentive alphabetical system of their batty old professor, and Sam spent more time not staring at her than he did paying attention to the ins and outs of the quadratic formula.

Melanie never looked back at Sam. She took pages and pages of notes each day with a sparkly purple pen, sometimes drawing doodles in the margins. Sometimes her nails matched the pen, colored pink or purple squares with little dots of glitter at the ends; today they were a bright red and had a flower on each thumb. They matched her shirt, a plain red tee that pulled tight across her chest.

Sam tried not to stare.

He watched her walk across the cafeteria with a tray in her hands. She usually sat with a chatty group of girls and they talked about music and movies and the next sleepover they would have, but most of the girls were gone today, some kind of field trip or something, so Melanie sat alone. 

She pulled out her notebook from class and flipped it open. Sam watched her reach for her Sprite, watched her crack open the can and take a small sip, and then she looked right at him. Sam jerked and shifted, looked away and knocked his fork to floor. He felt himself go red as he bent beneath the table to grab it, and he contemplated spending the rest of lunch hiding on the floor. He knew, though, that Dean was out there somewhere, or he would be out there somewhere whenever he got done making out with Stephanie, or Victoria, or maybe it was Jennifer now. Whatever. Whoever. All Sam knew was that he did not want to think about those consequences if Dean caught him hiding under the table because of a _girl_. Like, at all.

He snatched his fork from the floor as fast as he could and then straightened. He stared down at his food for a minute, some sort of spaghetti baked item that probably tasted like the bottom of his shoes, and then he risked a glance at Melanie. She stared down at her own spaghetti with her hands fisted on the table, trying her best to ignore the two guys sitting on either side of her.

The guys looked older than Melanie and Sam, juniors maybe, possibly seniors like Dean. Sam had seen them around school, but he didn’t know them. Not personally. Not that he wanted to know them personally. They had a reputation for punk ass stupidity and Sam tried to avoid punk ass stupidity whenever possible.

The one on the left- Bobby maybe, or maybe it was Bill- leaned in close to Melanie and whispered something in her ear. Melanie shook her head and tried to lean away, but the one on the right penned her in by reaching across her for her Sprite. Melanie watched him take a long pull, hands fisted on the table, and then she went for her purse. BillBobby snatched it before she could grab it though and dropped it down out of her reach.

Melanie narrowed her eyes and watched BillBobby lean in close again. He whispered something else in her ear and his friend snickered, and then he snuck his hand beneath the table. Melanie jumped and shot up and smacked him hard across the face, and the smack echoed through the cafeteria, silent and still now, everyone turned to watch the show. But nobody moved. Nobody but Sam.

He stood as BillBobby stood as Melanie took a step back. She spat out insults that Sam knew would impress even Dean, and BillBobby turned a nasty shade of red. Some of the people around him started to laugh, and he leaned in close to Melanie. His hands in fists, he said, “What did you just say to me?” 

Sam started toward the table.

Melanie glared up at BillBobby, her lips thin and white. “You heard me. Touch me again and I’ll break both your arms.”

BillBobby blinked and then blinked again and then a nasty leer took over his face, replacing his blank confusion. “Now, you know that’s not what you said last night. You said—”

“That if you ever touched her, ever, she’d break both your arms and legs.”

More snickering, more redness, and everyone turned to look at Sam. He felt himself flush again, but he willed his body straight, his shoulders back, chin up, arms long and loose by his sides. BillBobby had about five inches and forty pounds on Sam, and his buddy did too, but Sam didn’t care. At least then it would be a fair fight.

BillBobby stared at Sam a moment, his thick brows drawn together in confusion. Then he turned toward his buddy and said, “Are you seeing this, David? Little punk freshmeat thinks he’s Rocky or something. Trying to start something he knows he can’t finish.”

“No,” Sam said. “I know I can finish. I just don’t want to unless I have to.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have brought your punk ass over here then and started something. Because you’re damn well going to finish it.”

“And _you_ shouldn’t have brought _your_ punk ass over here and bothered Melanie. But you did.”

BillBobby tensed. He glared at Sam, his face twisted in anger, and Sam heard the hush of the cafeteria, the indrawn breath, the calm before the storm. Melanie shuffled behind him, David stood, and Sam wondered what Dean was going to say when he found out that Sam got into a fight because of a girl.

The punch went wild, sloppy and loose. Sam dropped down to the floor and swept a leg into BillBobby, knocking him ass first onto the table. He landed on Melanie’s tray of cooling spaghetti, and the cafeteria burst into whistles and applause and a rowdy _fight, fight, fight_ chant. 

David looked at BillBobby sprawled out on the table and then charged. Sam spun out of the way and kicked David in the ass; he stumbled and fell into a heap on the floor, skin squealing against the tile. Melanie grabbed her discarded Sprite and dumped the contents onto his head, and the crowd roared its approval. Then the world slid sideways for Sam as pain burst bright and clear before his eyes. 

He managed to turn around in time to see BillBobby swing again. Sam stepped into the blow and elbowed him hard in the gut, and he toppled to the floor in a groaning lurch. Sam eased back, gasping, the room twisting sideways around him. 

“Samuel Winchester!”

Silence sucked all the noise out of the cafeteria in half a heartbeat. Sam heard sharp snaps snapping hard across the floor toward him, and he stepped back more from a moaning BillBobby. His principal, Mr. O’Malley, and two teachers closed in fast, but nobody told that to BillBobby. He took another shot at Sam, shooting up from the floor and clipping Sam hard on the side of his face, the same side as before. The cafeteria exploded into white and red, and Sam fell to one knee. He saw one of the teachers pull BillBobby away, felt a hand on his arm, and he looked over to find Melanie kneeling beside him. 

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice soft like her hand.

“You mean, besides the fact that I see two of you right now?”

Melanie grimaced and Sam shot her a weak grin. She helped him to his feet, lingering by his side as Mr. O’Malley stopped before them. He stared at Sam and then surveyed the rest of the scene, and then he said, “You mind explaining what happened here, young man?” 

Sam looked around. BillBobby had spaghetti plastered to his ass, and David still lay in a widening pool of Sprite. Melanie’s hand felt warm on his arm, and Sam saw Dean ease into the cafeteria, his eyes wide and locked on Sam.

“I—”

“He was helping me, Mr. O’Malley. Billy and David wouldn’t leave me alone, so Sam came over to try to help. That’s when Billy started the fight.”

Sam blinked. Melanie stared straight ahead, right at Mr. O’Malley, but her hand tightened on his arm. Sam felt himself flush again, and he saw Dean raise an eyebrow out of the corners of his eyes. 

Mr. O’Malley looked from Sam to David to Billy before coming back to Sam again. He sighed and shook his head and said, “Melanie, would you mind taking Sam to the school nurse? Get him checked out and then come straight to my office.”

“Yes, Mr. O’Malley.”

Melanie tugged on his arm. Sam followed her out of the cafeteria, his steps slow and careful. His temple throbbed, and the room swung in lazy circles before him, but her hand slid down to grasp his, and he saw Dean grin and shoot him a thumb's up sign as they left the cafeteria.

They walked down the hall in silence. His palm sweated in hers, and Sam wished he could wipe it off, but he didn’t want to move or breathe or break the moment. He saw Melanie look at him sidelong, and he tried to twist his head to hide his bruise.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. Get into a fight, I mean. I could have handled it myself.”

“I didn’t think you couldn’t. I just—”

“I know. I mean- I just meant that you didn’t have to get involved. But you did. And I- I don’t know- I’m just trying to say thank you.”

“Okay.”

“Sam—”

Spaghetti stained his shoe, one cuff of his jeans. Sam looked up and stopped, his heart thumping fast at how close she stood. Their knees bumped as she leaned in. This close, he saw that her eyes were hazel, not brown, and he felt the world slip sideways again as she pressed her lips to his. He swallowed and tried to draw in a breath, and she followed the gasp of his mouth, tilted her head to the side, and touched the tip of her tongue to his. 

He closed his eyes, tightened his grip on her hand, and tried not to stumble into her as her lips moved against his. Melanie pulled back after a moment, and he could smell the cherry vanilla scent of her gloss and the clean hint of soap on her skin. Her chest brushed against his as she breathed in, and he saw red again, the bright red of her t-shirt clear in his mind.

“So,” she said. “Call me tonight?”

Sam opened his eyes. Melanie stared down at their still joined hands, and her teeth worried the corner of her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t have your number.”

She smiled then and Sam felt it fast in his gut. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her purple pen; then she twisted Sam’s hand and scrawled her number onto his palm in thick loopy numbers. When she was done, she looked up at him and grinned, and Sam felt the same dizzy rush sweep through his body as before.

“Just don’t call after nine,” she said. “My dad goes to bed early most nights.”

Sam nodded. The numbers sparkled on his palm and he said, “Yeah. Okay. Before nine. I can- I can do that.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Good.”   
…………


End file.
